


A Court of Graves and Bloom

by inkydaisycrown



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Slow Romance, Tamlin has a Sister!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkydaisycrown/pseuds/inkydaisycrown
Summary: And so, I ran /wild/.An ACoTaR spin-off in which Tamlin was not the only one spared by Rhysand all those years ago.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. /one/

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am one of the many people who read the ACoTaR series and absolutely fell in love with the world Maas created. Tamlin's downward spiral into obsession with Feyre's safety, as sudden as it was, had me thinking- what if this wasn't the first time he reacted in such a way? What if there was a way to see this coming?  
> So... I created a person and stuck them into some not-so-great circumstances, but with some super-awesome-great characters. And here we are!
> 
> Updates for this might be slow, so patience and feedback would be greatly appreciated!

The first time I had seen Velaris, I was not actually sure I would fit there. But Rhysand, despite his unexplained frenzy during our period from leaving the mountain to passing the city’s wards, assured me that it would be a home I was glad to be in. A home I could thrive in.

Any place was better than Under the Mountain. And any family I would have there, any friends, would be better than the alternative I had waiting in the Spring Court.

I wasn’t sure why I was so hesitant to come into the city, to live there, despite having already seen it through Rhys’ eyes, through the dreams he fed me every night to make sure I would be able to sleep easily. To wake up in the morning and not question why I was still breathing. Maybe I was afraid in the moment, because Rhysand, _Rhysand_ , looked nervous as we neared the looming headquarters, which I later learned was called the House of Wind, above the skyline of Velaris. Maybe the cause of his nerves was because he hadn’t been there in 50 years, and it was just as new to him as it might have seen to me. Maybe he was nervous things would have changed. Maybe he was nervous that he had changed, in his time Under the Mountain.

Maybe I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to change here.

I hadn’t been able to take in the sights of the city- my stomach was churning, my eyes darting around, looking, not seeing. My instincts were itching beneath my skin, the urge to shift right then and there as I finally felt the power I lost in my time Under the Mountain sink in, pumping through my veins. I felt my claws poke at my fingertips, and urged them to stay under my skin. Rhysand had offered to fly us up to the door, cut down on the time it would take to climb the thousand steps.

I looked at him for a moment, before looking up at that wide, boundless sky, and told him I would prefer walking.

In our brief time walking through the city, I was surprised to notice the lack of gawking, or even the slightest attention, from the people walking the street. You were always scrutinized, always watched, always preyed on, Under the Mountain- and even before then, in the Spring Court. Rhysand was the High Lord of this place, and yet there was nothing of the sort- even with a stranger at his side. Part of me felt relief coming off of them, the people on the street. They’ve been waiting for him- waiting for him to come home. 

Home. What an odd word.

It took time to climb the steps, and in that time, I began to let everything sink in. Feyre Archeron had freed us- passed all of those awful challenges Amarantha had put in place. Surprised that evil witch at every possibility. Outsmarted her. Freed us. She had died for us- a human. Now, Faerie made flesh. And she had gone back to the Spring Court with Tamlin. She had done her job- a job that no one had truly asked of her. Now, came the After.

And I had no idea what to do with the chance at life that I was given.

Though Rhys walked slightly ahead of me, I could tell he needed to say something, but didn’t want to break the silence- felt the claws as they scratched lightly at the doors he had taught me how to lock myself.  
Tall, looming walls of aged yellow stone, moss and vines of flowers climbing all the way up to the top. Smell of roses, warmth of the sun felt even through the stone. The work of a child of Spring.  
I let the one of those doors just barely crack open. Wide enough, though, to let him in. Through it, he whispered, voice raspy, tired.

_All you have to think about is eating, then sleeping. I will handle everything else. If you don’t want to talk to anyone, just ignore them and go up the stairs on the left. No one will complain. I will explain everything._ I made an affirming noise, and then, with a blink, the door shut, locking with the sound of a mechanical click. My feet moved on autopilot, too tired to feel the soreness.

It was not much longer until we finally reached the doors of the House of Wind. Rhys looked back sparingly, likely to make sure I didn’t disappear or flee out of fear. He looked so exhausted- looking younger in his tired state. Like a child. He gave me a smile, though, and it was then that I realized that exhaustion stemmed from relief, just as the people of this city were relieved. He was finally home, after enduring what was Under the Mountain, enduring Amarantha, for 50 years.

We were free. Prythian was free.

“Are you ready?” No. Not even close. I nodded anyway, and he smiled again. Relief. Exhaustion. Big, bright sadness lingering underneath.

He opened the door, and there was a blur of blonde hair and something like a scream, and Rhys was tackled to the floor. On instinct, I shuffled away from the commotion, as a beautiful woman dragged Rhysand’s figure off the ground before pulling him into another bone-crushing hug. From behind the two of them, I could spot three other, slightly more distant figures. Two tall men with great, sweeping black wings, and a small woman, likely around my height, with midnight-black hair framing her face, and an odd, unseen, unsettling aura about her.

Just as I had spotted them, I knew they had seen me. And yet, I went ignored as they all took their turns giving their affections, the black-haired woman’s being that of a punch to the arm and a muttering of something I couldn’t decipher.

Rhysand smiled, all the same. And I made no move to run towards the steps.

It was only until after they had all had their chances to comment at Rhysand’s return that the blonde woman turned to me, seemingly surprised to find me there, in the corner, before turning back to Rhysand, blatant questioning in her honey-brown eyes. The rest turned to me in tandem, eyes focusing on my small, defeated form. Their eyes moved in sync from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.

“This- this is Abilene. Of the Spring Court.” The uncertain tension in the air was nearly palpable as Rhysand turned back to them. “She is my friend. The only one I had Under the Mountain.” I appreciated his simplified version of the extent of our relations - like he said, he would worry about explaining himself- explaining me- later. I raised my gaze only slightly, nervous to look at any of them in particular. I briefly made eye contact with one of the two Ilyrians- the one standing further back, seemingly cloaked in shadows. An unfamiliar feeling went through me as his brown eyes met my green ones. He blinked, and looked away. I did the same.

I made to introduce myself properly, fumbling over my words, but before I could make a fool of myself, the same woman who tackled Rhys swept me up into a hug of my own- pulled my head to her neck, as that was as far as I could reach, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, tight. A hug of gratitude. A hug from a friend. A hug saying, you are safe here. You are finally safe.

I couldn’t stop my tears.

It was like she knew, though. Knew the feeling of emerging from the woods at night, the uncertain, the doomed. She didn’t let go, held on tight, swayed us both from side to side. Before I knew, it, bubbles of laughter, tired but unburdened, came tumbling out of my mouth, even through the tears. She returned them with laughter of her own, lovely and carefree.

“I am glad to have met you, Abilene.” Her voice was like silk in my ears- safe, safe, safe. I still couldn’t speak, could only squeeze my arms around her in response.

The others in the room gave us a moment, likely surprised by her sudden reaction, but eventually, a hand on her shoulder peeled us apart with a humorous chuckle, “Alright, Mor, let the girl breathe.” The hand, with a red sort of jewel placed on top of it, belonged to one of the winged men- a wide, unabashed grin taking over his face, deep brown eyes looking down at me through the curly, inky hair falling over his eyes. I knew I was small in stature compared to other fae, but I felt absolutely dwarfed in his presence, especially with those huge, looming wings casting a shadow behind him. His smile was boyish, though, and he clapped me on the shoulder. I sniffled lightly, trying to re-compose myself as he spoke.

“It’s good to meet you.” The other unnamed man, who made himself a shadow behind the one in front of me, nodded in greeting, but said nothing, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He shared the same general features as the other, as if they came from the same region (likely, because of their wings and dark hair and eyes), but other than that, they seemed to be worlds apart in disposition. This… shadow of a man only peered over the other’s shoulder, briefly meeting my eyes again, before turning away and slinking back towards the black-haired woman.

Rhysand spoke for me, “Abilene, this is Cassian,” The one in front of me nodded, winking cheekily. I was momentarily betrayed by my body as I felt my cheeks burn in response. “And the insufferably antisocial one in the corner is Azriel.” The other man, who seemed lightly ruffled by Rhysand’s remark, turned to me again, nodding once. I tried to give some semblance of a smile, before my eyes then drifted over to the two women, now standing a few feet away. The blond one smiled, bold and big and beautiful.

“You already know that’s Mor, and then…” The shorter fae stepped up on her own, an almost bored expression taking over her pixie-like face.

“My name is Amren. And you,” She took a curious look at me, trying to find something in my eyes. I blinked, almost hypnotized by how the grey in her own eyes swirled, like looking at fog through glass. She gave me a small smirk, likely used to my reaction, “You are no common High Fae, are you?” I looked to Rhys. I’ll explain everything, he had said. He gave me a reassuring nod, before turning to the others, who also seemed confused by Amren’s observation.

“How about we move to the dining table? We’re starved, over here.”

____________

It felt odd to stare down at my full plate of duck, greens, beets, and other fixings, picking at my plate, while Rhysand explained the… complications of my standings in the Spring Court.

“Tamlin was not the only member of his family spared that night, in the Spring Court.” Cassian was the only one who looked surprised at our table, eyes widening as he looked between Rhysand and I. Amren was unfazed, as I assume was her normal state of being, while Morrigan, across from me, and Azriel, to my left, both listened politely as they ate, though I could feel the stirring of energy just under their skin. They were just good at hiding it.

“I… had found Abilene, there. After I thought everyone else was… done. I didn’t have time to act before Tamlin found the two of us in the foyer,” He looked up at me for a moment, “She was just a child.” He paused, remembering that night, all those years ago. I remembered, too, though I was so, so young when it had happened. “Tamlin hid Abilene for as long as he could after that. After he became High Lord, he made me swear I never saw her, didn’t know she existed. Threatened to kill me at one point. But I had spared both he and Abilene, and so he decided to do the same. He hid her away- glamoured her out of sight, out of mind, save for a few in the Spring Court. His plan was for everyone to think she had died alongside her other siblings and parents. And it worked. Until the night of the masquerade.” Another pause. Rhysand passed a look over to me. Asking for permission. I gave a minute nod, unnoticeable to the others at the table.

“That night, Abilene had followed the members of the Spring Court Under the Mountain. She was suspicious of Amarantha’s motives, and she had meant to keep an eye out for trouble, to pull her brother or even Lucien away from the festivities.” He heaved out a sigh, pain flashing over his face as he remembered the night that started it all. “One of her minions found Abilene and brought her before the court. I hadn’t seen her in years by that point, I almost didn’t recognize her.” He winced, “Tamlin begged Amarantha to spare her.”

He took a long pause. It was painful to think of it, my brother on his knees in front of the court, in front of that beautiful monster. I remember her laugh as he did so willingly, before suggesting she keep me with her… under her care. Tamlin, of course, couldn’t keep track of me himself, she had said. I remember the fear in Rhysand’s eyes as they met mine across the throne room. It was a miracle he had remembered who I was at all- I had been shifted when I was found. I remember being caged, starved, tortured-

“I had been Under the Mountain since then.” It was quiet, the confession I had made.. A heavy silence settled over the room as I felt their realization sink in.

I hadn’t seen the sky for fifty years.

“And… and what of Tamlin, then?” Morrigan asked.

“What of him?” My immediate response was biting, though I hadn’t meant for it to sound so acidic. I blinked, eyes fixed on my plate, but they were drawn away to the side. My claws were digging into the placemat under my plate. Down, girl, I steeled my will. They shrank back into my skin.

When I lifted my gaze, it was Morrigan whose eyes I caught first, directly across from me. Her eyes were sad. Pitying.

I found I didn’t like how pity felt. I pushed my plate away gently, nearly untouched. “I’d like to be excused, please.” I didn’t look at anyone in particular. Rhysand made a move to get up, to escort me to safety, away from the prying gaze of his friends, but Morrigan stopped him with a hand. “There’s a room ready for you here, Abilene. I’ll take you there.” I paused for a moment, unsure, and flitted my gaze over to Rhysand. He nodded, settling back into his seat, not meeting Amren’s silvery, questioning eyes. I slowly stood, and stepped into the space beside Morrigan before she started to lead me away, a soft, protecting arm around my shoulders.

I felt eyes on my back the entire way up the staircase.

When Morrigan opened the door, two shadowy, waif-like figures already stood within. I felt like crying in relief as I took in their familiar faces, and they immediately came to embrace me. “We were thinking this one would end up being yours, Lady Abilene,” Cerridwen gently brushed away stray tears while Nuala rubbed circles between my shoulder blades. Morrigan squeezed my shoulder lightly, and when I turned towards her, she was smiling lightly.

“Well, I suppose you’re in good hands with them. I’ll let you get rest- if you need me, just yell.” She winked, then turned and left without another word, the door clicking softly behind her.  
I turned back, taking the room in. The only word I could think of was ‘open’. Not caged, not sealed thousands of feet below the ground, not buried alive. Open. Free.

Free, I am free.

Nuala and Cerridwen worked carefully, quickly, and silently. Before I knew it, I was in a loose, pearl-toned, silken night gown, with an open back and long, flowing sleeves that came past the ends of my fingertips. My hair was let down from its previous place, piled on top of my head, and Cerridwen was combing it with a tender hand. I disconnected with myself for a brief time while they worked- the exhaustion, relief, confusion, fear all building up inside me, taking effect on my conscience. 

“I don’t think they know what to make of me,” My voice was more tired than I had intended for it to sound. Cerridwen paused briefly in the process of brushing my long, unruly hair, letting it fall in down the length of my back like cocoa-colored waves. She placed the brush down on the boudoir.

“They don’t know you yet, is all.” Her hand found its way to my shoulder, and her eyes met mine in the mirror. She tried a smile. It must have been very long since she last wore one.

“Do you think I’ll… come to - to belong here?” The twins must have heard the trepidation, the vulnerability in my voice. Nuala came up from her place behind us, where she was fixing up the bed for me to sleep. Sleep, finally sleep. Her hand laid down on my other shoulder. 

Nuala didn’t smile, but she did very quietly murmur, “Velaris is the city of dreamers,” She tucked a stray hair behind my ear, “and never in all my life have I met anyone who dreamed as much as you, Abilene.”

____________

The twins left me after a short while, quietly wishing me a goodnight. The moment the door closed behind them, I threw myself onto the bed, letting my spine relax and melt into the soft sheets. I stared up at the high ceiling for a moment, before my gaze drifted over to the great, floor-to-ceiling window at the right side of the bed. Beyond the House of Wind, Velaris had yet to sleep, twinkling lights taking up so much space in that wide, boundless sky.

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the far-away gleaming of stars, shining and winking like wisps in the night. The smell of jasmine in the air nearly lulled me to sleep all on its own, but my own trepidation kept me awake, painstakingly alert. I held my hands up above me, until they were in my line of sight. I flexed my fingers slightly, watching in fascination as the claws effortlessly returned. I have not so easily sunk into shifting since before I was dragged Under the Mountain.

My powers had always confused and frightened Tamlin. I had never received any formal training from anyone, save for my modest education from Ianthe and her sisters. My powers sprouted and grew on their own, without any help or motivation to kindle them or keep them contained. Tamlin was too afraid to seek outside help, obsessed with keeping me hidden from anyone and everyone, in fear that I would be a target of the Night Court, or an object of interest from the others. 

He had never explained his thought process about this in detail to me. I had never asked him to. All he did was hide, hide, and hide. Protect, protect, protect. Lucien was the only person, save for Ianthe and her sisters, who knew of my existence after our family was killed. Even our subjects in the Spring Court were left unaware that the High Lord’s sister was alive- led to believe I died along with my relatives at the hands of Rhysand and his father.

Without any help then, my powers weren’t contained.

And so I ran wild.

There was one year in which I grew so tired of Tamlin’s coddling and suppression, that I had escaped our manor in the middle of the night, shifted into the form of a wolf, and ran off into the woods. I was not seen for the entire summer, living among other animals, charging through open fields, swimming in rivers, sleeping in dens and caves, drinking in the unrestrained splendor that was the wilderness.

Lucien found me just as Summer began to turn to Autumn. And I remember the hours I spent begging him, begging him not to take me back there, begging him to pretend he never saw me. I threatened him,- threatened to never speak to him again, to starve myself, even threatened to shift and claw his throat out. But there had been a reason Tamlin sent Lucien out to find me.

I could never have said no to him, in the end. Lucien, my Lucien, who I grew up beside, Lucien who would sneak me extra sweets, would come spend time with me in the study when it was dark enough that servants didn’t roam around anymore. Lucien who would come to me when Tamlin grew too aggressive, too stressed, too much. We would lie in a hidden glen in the woods for hours, talking about anything and everything, laughing at the sky, like nothing mattered. Lucien, my friend through many trials.

Lucien, the coward who bowed to my brother’s every command. Argued with him, sure, but always bowed. Lucien, who managed to bring me back to the Spring Court, to Tamlin, with nothing more than an uttered _please_.

_Lucien, Lucien, Lucien. Where are you now?_ He was in the Spring Court, alongside my brother and Feyre Archeron, undoubtedly. I vaguely pondered whether he was happy, more carefree, or if the events Under the Mountain would haunt him just as much as they haunted me.

_Sleep. I will take care of everything_ , the little Rhysand on my shoulder whispered. Sleep. Tomorrow will be a new day. I looked up into the high ceiling, breathed in the jasmine-scented air, and willed my stubborn body into slumber.

Try as I might, I did not sleep at all that night.


	2. /two/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We were two people that didn’t know each other yet, didn’t trust each other yet. And even so, maybe I wasn’t the only one in the room that didn’t want to be alone. And even so, he was offering his company. To a stranger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! I'm sorry for the bit of a wait, but classes have started up for me again, so updates may be slow, or shorter than I would like. Please be patient and kind, and I hope you enjoy!

In the early hours of the morning, when the sun was still hidden, I found myself staring at that wide, open ceiling. I don’t know if I even blinked the whole night.

To be fair, it had nothing to do with the hospitality of the House of Wind- Nuala and Cerridwen had certainly spent a fair amount of time making sure it would be comfortable for me there, and it was- soft, velour bedsheets, silken nightclothes, a scent of jasmine through the air- it was almost _too_ comfortable.

Far too comfortable.

Maybe it was the skeptic in me, or the wolf on the prowl, or the scared little girl I still felt, still breathed, inside, but something just felt _wrong_ \- wrong enough to keep me up all night long. The soft, pleasant openness around me did nothing to dampen my anxiety. If anything, it amplified it, as I remembered what was, and what is.

For the longest time, I was nothing more than something wild, something to be caged. I shivered as I thought back on the past 5 decades. It was the Attor that caught me, all that time ago. I remember putting up quite the fight, as he needed 3 other cronies to wrestle me into a hold, so that I could be brought before their Queen. I knew the moment her black eyes settled on me, panting as my bloodied fur was matted to my skin, that I was doomed. From then on, I was Amarantha’s killing machine. When she had tired of one of her court member’s antics, or when she felt she was being threatened, that’s when they would bring me out. Muzzled, leashed, caged, and forced to stay in my shifted wolf form. Amarantha’s guard dog, they called me. Snickered and whispered about me, especially when they learned the implications of my birth, but feared me, all the same. And that was exactly what Amarantha wanted.

At one point, I think Tamlin feared me as well.

But Rhysand had seen past it- had seen me. Saw the scared little girl behind the fangs, the claws. He saw me and thought, _This is a person who desperately needs a friend_. He gave me a chance- the least I could do now was take it.  
I thought to Rhysand’s friends- kind and also slightly intimidating. Cassian, boisterous, proud, and boyish. Morrigan, bold and beautiful and free. Amren, mysterious, cunning, unsettling. And _Azriel_. I couldn’t come up with any words to describe Azriel. He was quiet, surely, than the others. Moving on his own- his own agenda, alongside his loyalty to Rhysand. A lone wolf. Perhaps a little like me.

The thought alone sent a little spark of relief down my rigid spine. I exhaled. _Relax_.

To no avail.

My eyes crept over to the window, where the moon was within view. West-facing window. An idea popped into my head, and I threw the covers off, silently climbing out of the bed. I walked over to the wardrobe, picked out a thicker robe to wear over my sleeping gown, and slid a pair of warm, long socks over my feet.

Then, quieter than a mouse, I crept out the door, silent as I walked on my tip-toes, and meandered my way down the steps. It was still dark, dark enough that it mettled with my sight- I closed my eyes for a moment, and let myself become something else. Something that could see in the dark. I felt my eyes shift, and blinked. Before me, the room layout was clear- and I knew that if someone would look into my eyes, they would see those of a cat. The shifting had me shivering, but I pushed through, as I looked around the room.

My enhanced sight now let me know that I wasn’t alone, either.

“Running away?” I would have jumped if I hadn’t seen him sooner- Azriel, propped against the wall by the corner of the room, the grey light of a morning before the sunrise flowing lightly into the room, hitting just before his feet. Even in the dark of the early morning, I could see the air of shadows that waltzed around him, dark tendrils curling around the corners of his silhouette. I felt a predatory growl echo under my skin, deep in my brain. No. I wasn’t a predator. But I wasn’t helpless, either. I didn’t jump. And I didn’t growl. Instead, I looked him square in those pretty, brown eyes.

“Trust me, if I was running, I would have chosen a more suitable outfit,” Not running. Not yet at least. He blinked, eyes piercing into mine. After a moment, he huffed out a short laugh- he wasn’t expecting the boldness of my response, but my sureness was all a facade, exposed as I subtly tightened the robe around me. Holding myself in, keeping everything else out. There was something so very off-putting about the Ilyrian man, I knew that much by how easily disarmed I became. Not the same kind of unsettling as Amren, not the unworldly energy she had, but unsettling, all the same. He stepped just a few inches forward, but it was enough to have me on my guard. He must have noticed, because he put his hands out in front of himself as a sign of trust.

“Hey, I’m not here to try anything. And quite frankly, if you were running, I’m guessing you wouldn’t be fleeing in Fae form...” He trailed off, giving me enough time to question _why_ exactly he was down here in the dark on his own, almost as if he was… _waiting_ for me. Me, in Fae form or otherwise.

“Do you often stand guard at the steps in the dark?” I tried to nonchalantly brush past him, my eyes already trained on the window- east. The sun would be coming up any minute now. The faintest glow of orange settled over the skyline, teasing the morning well on its way.

“...No. Do you often creep down the steps in a nightgown before the sun rises?” He turned around to face where I was now, and I felt his eyes on my back as I propped a hand against the edge of the tall window. I almost wanted to laugh, but the air still felt too tense to brush off the comment. To brush off the suspicion laced in his words.

“Hmm, trying to divert the attention, I see,” Like most things I said, the words came out sounding more bitter than when I tasted them in my mouth, but Azriel must have seen the apprehension, the unease in my stance, noticed it in the way I hugged my arms around myself, how I wouldn’t turn to face him again. The light grew brighter by just a fraction, but I started to let my eyes return to their normal green, normal sight.

“Hey, a question for a question. I answered yours already, so,” it was a lame excuse, and he probably knew it, but he didn’t say anything more, leaving me to sigh. He wanted me to fill the strained air this time. I wonder if he felt just as nervous, in a room, alone with a complete stranger. I focused on that orange strip of light on the horizon, watching with rapt attention as it slowly, slowly grew thicker. Soon. Any minute.

“No, I don’t. I don’t sneak out of rooms in my nightclothes when it’s still dark out. Not normally, at least.”

“Then…?” Now he was pushing his luck, but I didn’t get defensive. I didn’t run. I heard him step closer, but I held my ground. Forced myself not to flinch, even as I felt him get closer. Not even when he came to my side, awkwardly propping his own arm against the opposite side of the window. The shadows circling his shoulders, dancing around his neckline, swirling around him in a subtle cloud, seemed to dissipate just a bit as he came into my space. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to make me feel safe by getting closer, or trying to close me in against the wall. Cage me. _No. Stop it_. I heaved out another sigh. I took a breath in.

Then, “I have not seen the sun in fifty years,” I looked up at him through my eyelashes for just a moment, but it was long enough for his gaze to latch onto mine. I blinked and looked away out of instinct. “I haven’t seen the sun in fifty years, so I am going to watch the sunrise, and pray to the Cauldron that this isn’t some dream or image Rhysand is feeding into my brain, and that I’m actually here,” I flitted my eyes back over him for just a split second- he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking out the window, towards the horizon. “If that’s well alright with you, of course.” I don’t know why I said all of that. I could have spun some lie about wanting water, or food, or just wanting to walk- or hell, even telling him to leave me alone, to mind his business. He might have, if I asked him to. But I didn’t ask him that. I told him the truth. And I don’t know why.

He was quiet for a long moment, and the air didn’t get any less rigid, the tension still palpable as he stood there, calculating. Pondering. The orange was leading to pink, then yellow, now. Finally, “Would you like me to leave you alone, then?” The tension shifted. It was an odd question. Did I really want to sit here, alone? Did I want to be alone now? A deep-rooted, animalistic part of me howled at the thought. The prideful part of me wanted to scoff. I hated how easy the question seemed for him to ask, and how difficult it was for me to answer. He didn’t move while I thought, but he stayed a safe distance away. Leaving the choice to me.

We were two people that didn’t know each other yet, didn’t trust each other yet. And even so, maybe I wasn’t the only one in the room that didn’t want to be alone. And even so, he was offering his company. To a stranger.

“No.” It was barely above a whisper. But it was enough.

“Then I’ll watch it with you.” He was just as quiet with his reply, matching my own reluctance. My nervousness. But he stood with me. He watched with me.  
And that was that.

_________

I don’t know when Azriel left my side at the window, let me marinate in the glory that was the sun’s rays after it had made its appearance over the skyline. I couldn’t tell how long I was standing there, be it seconds or hours. All I knew was that no image Rhysand could bring into my mind would be able to do the one in front of me any justice. I could have burned my eyes out, gone blind, and I would be glad knowing that the last thing I ever saw was the sun.

My sentimentality was interrupted by the sound of incoming footsteps. For the first time in perhaps hours, I turn my eyes to find Rhysand, already dressed for the day, a curious look about him. I then realized that I was still in my nightclothes, and proceeded to casually wrap my robe tighter around me, hugging my arms close to myself. Before I could try to excuse myself and my presence, Rhysand took one look behind me, at that beautiful, glorious sun, and seemed himself a little in awe. Then, when he looked into my eyes again, I knew that he understood.

He made no comment as I excused myself back up to my room, where I found Nuala and Cerridwen already prepped to dress me. They stayed quiet about the dark circles around my eyes, the almost untouched bedding. I assume they already understood, or Azriel had perhaps snuck them a clue as to my whereabouts, my activities. Azriel listened to shadows that danced around him, commanded their every whim, and Nuala and Cerridwen might as well be shadows themselves. It made sense, then, that they may answer to him. The twins silently worked around me, hardly exchanging any words with each other or with me. “What am I supposed to do around here?” It was the first thing that I had said to them that morning, voice raw with exhaustion. 

Nuala hummed quietly, “You may show yourself around the city- there’s plenty here to entertain, but perhaps the High Lord would like to give you a tour himself, to be sure you know your way around and such.” She gently braided a portion of my hair into a band around my head, pulling it out of my face and pushing it into place with a silver pin. I looked tiredly into the mirror. I had always been tanned, but the years under the mountain did its job, and my face now sported a much more pallid color. My green eyes, once bright and lively, were now hollow. Muted. I hadn’t taken account of the damage before- now, though, I could see the essence of life had been drained from me. It left something behind, though. Something longing. Something… unrestrained. 

Hunger.

I hugged my arms around myself, and looked over to the wardrobe, where Cerridwen was now standing, holding up a simple, silvery dress with the Night Court insignia on the belt, and a cropped blue jacket to lay over it- We were now in the beginning of Winter, and the weather had turned frosty weeks ago. I easily complied with slipping into my new clothes. I stepped in to the pair of comfortable boots Nuala placed at my feet, and bid them a quiet goodbye before stepping out of the room.

Exploration. I could do that- it was something to keep me busy, keep me moving. Something I sorely needed. Except when I came down the steps again, there was not one, not two, but three people already waiting, their backs turned to me. Two men with great, sweeping wings, and a blonde woman in the middle, like she belonged there. They heard me coming down, and turned, all three at once. Morrigan’s gleaming smile was the first one I saw. She clapped her hands together once before reaching both her arms to wrap around the Ilyrian’s shoulders, the trio making their way over to me as I attempted to return a smile with the same enthusiasm. I don’t think it worked.

That didn’t matter to her, though. “Rhysand told us he wanted to give you a tour of Velaris himself, but he didn’t get here quick enough, so I have decided to take matters into my own hands. You’re coming with us!” She unwrapped her arm from Azriel’s side, and I tried not to meet Azriel’s eyes, even as they bore into mine. I could only hope the morning we shared stayed a secret from the others- it had been an unexpected moment of vulnerability I had shown him. He wouldn’t expose that to the others- right?

I must have stood there for a few seconds in silence, but Cassian didn’t let me think too long, didn’t let the quietness become awkward- he took my lack of a response as a chance to throw his own arm around my shoulder, tugging me closer and pulling me to his side. I outwardly flinched at the abruptness, at the strength. I felt a bit like a ragdoll, and the feeling only intensified as I was hugged against his side. I knew he surely meant it in a brotherly manner, but I couldn't stop feeling _trapped_. Caged. _NO. THERE IS NOT HERE_. I put on a brave face, but considering how Azriel’s eyes widened, before almost bearing closer, like he was going to pull me away if I needed it, I’m guessing something must have slipped through the mask. Something he saw, something he felt. Something he knew. It was comforting in the moment to think that I could be yanked away, saved- but I didn’t want to be comforted, didn't want to be saved. 

So, instead of giving anything away to my newfound acquaintances, I finally returned a smile with ease, looking up, up into Cassian’s eyes, curly hair falling over his eyes in loose strands. Then, I looked to Morrigan, who flashed me another grin from between the two men.

Not looking at Azriel, not daring to, I passed a look back at the window, the sun well in the height of the sky by now. Then, I faced forward, making to step towards the door.

“Let’s go, then.”


	3. /three/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood, soft and sweet, touched my tongue, and I forgot everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next installment! I hope you enjoy- if you do, don't hesitate to comment feedback or leave kudos if you'd like!

_The muzzle was tight- binding, suffocating. I growled from behind it, and tried to ignore the devilish snicker I heard the Attor let out from in front of me. I contemplated biting his wings off, before I remembered that was impossible, regarding my current predicament. I almost whined at the jabbing pain around my snout, forcing my jaws shut, making breathing harder. There was a yank on the chain around my neck, also tight, digging past my fur coat and into the skin of my neck._

_“Come on now, mutt. Her Grace is waiting for you in the throne room.” ‘Her Grace can shove it somewhere else’. It would have come out as a growl if I could have spoken. Instead, the resentment swirled around my head, hot through my veins, running from the tips of my tufted ears to the tips of my claws. It consumed me._

_But it didn’t consume me as much as the hunger did. And so I followed the Attor._

_I should have known what I was in for when we entered the throne room- should have seen it in Amarantha’s face- that beautiful, awful face. But I hadn’t- at the time, I was still unaware of everything the monster behind that pretty mask was capable of. She grinned when she saw me, and I saw from the corner of my eye that not only had the entire court been in attendance, but-- we had guests._

_I saw Tamlin’s golden hair in my peripheral view, spotted the gleam of Lucien’s golden eye behind his mask, and felt my stomach twist. I had no time to look over properly, no time to gauge their reactions. I didn’t think I wanted to, either._

_“There she is- my most prized… pet.” I heard titters and jeers from all around me. Rhysand stood beside her, face like stone in the moment. He didn’t look at me, but I knew we thought the same thing. Her other pet. Part of me begged for him, for anyone, to look at me, tell me what was happening. Rhysand’s eyes flickered over me, but he didn’t give anything away. If he was trying to break into my mind, as he sometimes did, it sure didn’t feel like it. Amarantha commanded my attention once again, though, when she said to someone off to her side, “Bring him in, then.”_

_For a moment, an awful weight sat on my shoulders, in my stomach. I felt like I was a rock, thrown into the sea, and I held back a whine, my paws tapping on the stone floor anxiously. My dread stemmed from the faint, tangy scent of blood in the air. The feeling intensified as I watched 2 cretins, just like the Attor, drag a bloodied creature- no, fae- in through the archway to my right. He was clothed in rags, once brown but now red with what I assume was his own blood. His head hung low past his shoulders, but I could very well see the bruises and bumps all over him- he had been brutalized. My eyes, betraying my conscience, hungrily dragged over his abused back as he was forced to his knees, facing Amarantha._

_The man was a Peregryn. His wings, once likely glorious and strong, were now bent in odd directions, bits and pieces of hollow bone protruding from the tufts of feathers. I wanted to hiss. What could one fae have possibly done to deserve this punishment?_

_I could feel the moral sense in me fade away as the metallic scent of fae blood grew stronger the longer he sat there. Blood blood blood meat blood hungry--_

_STOP._

_Amarantha, as though she read my thoughts herself, flashed me a horrid grin before directing her attention to the beaten man before her. “You’re very lucky, you know. I haven’t let my dearest pup see anyone for weeks,” She took a deep sniff of the air around her- I could tell everyone else in this room could smell the blood on him, too. Her grin widened, and her eyes pierced through mine. “Fresh meat.” My eyes snapped up to hers, and I tried to drown out Lucien’s horrified gasp that reached my ears from the other side of the hall._

_No. Nonononono-_

_An appalling wave of hunger washed through me at the thought. I felt sick- with disgust or starvation, I couldn’t say. I tried not to breathe through my nose, but the muzzle around my snout made it impossible._

_Slowly, everyone else began to disappear from sight. No Rhysand, no Lucien, no Tamlin, not even Amarantha. Just me and the Peregryn._

_A she-wolf and her prey. NO._

_Amarantha could see what was happening, the internal battle- and I think she knew which one, which part of me, was going to win. I watched with unseeing eyes as she stepped down from her throne, and took a step towards the winged man. I felt a string of drool drip from my maw down onto the floor. The Attor cackled again._

_I whined from behind the muzzle, for real this time, as Amarantha turned the Peregryn around herself, placing two delicate hands on his shoulders as he, too, slowly came to the realization of what was happening. This was no execution. This was a feast, with an audience._

_That was when he began to beg._

_For some odd, cruel reason, the wolf inside keened at his reaction- the scent of his fear mixed with that of his blood, his life, creating a repulsively intoxicating combination. No one had to hold him down- he was too weak to move on his own now. Nowhere for him to escape._

_My eyes fled around the room, searching for someone to stare at, to focus on. Anyone but the poor Peregryn man in front of me. The only eyes I found were Rhysand’s, purple irises burning into my green ones. I couldn’t bear it- I looked away, ashamed. They dragged the fae closer. He was near enough to properly scent, and I did so on instinct, muzzle be damned. My nose filled with the tantalizing aroma, and I became absolutely terrified of myself. I felt my stomach grumble again._

_This was a nightmare. I wondered if Rhysand could see what I was thinking- whether he could see my struggle or not. I wondered if he was ignoring it- I would, had I been in his shoes. I let out a defeated whine._

_Suddenly, I felt hands around the strap of the muzzle, the collar of my leash. My heart began to pound even faster inside my ribcage. No. No no no please no-_

_Hungry. Starving. Food- fresh blood. NO- nonononono-_

_With a click, the muzzle and leash were unbound, and fell away from me. A powerful surge of wolfish instinct took me under for the last time, fully void of any moral or empathetic thought.  
With that last wave of intelligent consciousness, I remember pleading silently that Lucien, Rhysand, Tamlin, all of them, would look away._

_Blood, soft and sweet, touched my tongue, and I forgot everything else._

_____

I didn’t wake from my nightmare screaming, or thrashing, or crying. I wasn’t sobbing or heaving or vomiting to the side of the bed. I didn’t feel scared or out of control.  
I awoke feeling nothing but defeat.

That Peregryn had been the first of countless victims to fall to my fangs, my claws, since I had been Under the Mountain. I remember waking up after covered in blood and gore and feeling dirty, disgusting, unworthy. But fed. Full. Warm. And so I did it again. And again. And again- whenever Amarantha would tire of a subject or when the cells grew too populous. I did it because I wasn’t getting fed otherwise. I did it so I could survive- at least, that was what Rhysand always assured me. Still, no amount of reassurance or filled-bellies could quell the utter emptiness that contrasted the physical satiety I felt after securing another meal- another kill.

I remember seeing Lucien for the first time after I had killed the first prisoner- met his eye, and looked away directly after when I saw what the look held within. Alienation. He looked at me as though he had never seen me before- and it would have been believable if it weren’t for the fact he was the first one to ever see me in my fully-shifted wolf form. It wouldn’t have stung if I had let myself believe it.

He didn’t speak to me after that- neither did Tamlin, but that was what I was used to by then. But Lucien, Lucien who would let me practice flirting on him and would have me blushing from head-to-toe, giggling girlishly, when he often returned the favor. Lucien who would hold me when I cried, when Tamlin’s oppression grew to be too much some nights. Lucien…

There wasn’t a bit of him left when he looked at me after that.

I brought a hand to my throbbing temple, and slowly sat up in bed, silken covers and cushions bunching up around my waist when I bent. The afternoon of the day before had gone fairly well- Morrigan didn’t expect me to fill the gaps of silence she left in between explaining the different shopping districts of Velaris. Cassian did that well enough on his own, butting in every now and then with a remark of his own, always followed by a brotherly grin. I always tried to smile back, but I think I would have relaxed more on that trip if I hadn’t felt two brown eyes on my back the entire time.

It wasn’t like Azriel went out of his way to be cold or unkind or intimidating. But the entirety of my little tour of Velaris, he had trailed behind the three of us like-- like some kind of predator. I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such scrutiny, and though he never said anything, I’d like to believe he was still thinking of our interaction that morning. I wasn’t sure what else he could be thinking of, staring at me like that the whole time- then again, I wasn’t quite sure what those stares _meant_ as I’d look back at him every now and then. His brown eyes flashed with some sort of emotion every time they met my green ones, and yet he stayed quiet. 

So did I.

After we had thoroughly gone through 'the most exciting bits', as Morrigan called it, the sun was already creeping down the skyline. Morrigan and Cassian said they had plans to go to some club- Rita’s, if I remembered correctly. They extended an invitation to me, telling me it was the best place to dance and mingle in all of Velaris. Thinking of the last time I was enclosed into one space with so many people around, I politely declined.

When they looked to Azriel then, expecting him to follow them, he let out a polite refusal of his own. “Can’t let her get lost on her way back, can we?” The other two shrugged it off, turning in the direction of the club and setting off immediately, but I stood still for a moment. Gazing at him, as he turned to look back, feigning casual strides as he came closer. Calculating. Speculating. Scrutinizing, but for what, I didn’t know.

“Why do you look at me like I’m going to run any moment?” The question sounded weaker, less prodding or confident, than I had intended. Instead of Azriel taking that opportunity to bite, to attack, as soon as the others went out of earshot, he shrugged instead. Sidled up to me as we began walking, before seeming to remember something, and putting some distance between us. Good. Distance was good- not suffocating, or oppressing, burying me alive under miles of stone- _stop._

We walked a few more paces before he answered, “Perhaps I look at you like that because you do look like you’re going to run at any moment.” I wanted to scoff, but I wasn’t sure my defense was that good for that point. Throughout the whole day, even as I willed my brain to be led away by Morrigan and her pretty smile, Cassian and his carefreeness, Velaris and its cobblestone streets, joyous citizens, I couldn’t. Part of me, the part of me that I tried locking away that night Under the Mountain, were aching, but on high alert. I couldn’t calm down, and I supposed Azriel, the secret master he was, could see it. See the skittish child in me- the wild animal, snarling from within its cage. _No. No more cages. Not ones you can see, anyway._

“Why would you care about me running away?” Is the question I asked instead of trying and failing to deflect his accusation. Sure, Azriel and Rhysand were close, meaning Azriel knew who I was by association, but I wouldn’t dare say that our little encounter that morning made us friends. I hoped Azriel picked up on that, as well.

And it seemed he did. As nonchalantly as he could have been, he shrugged again, eyes still facing forward, The House of Wind still far-off in the distance, sitting on the skyline like a crown. “You’re a friend of Rhysand’s, and he has very far few of those- few true friends, at least,” He took a long pause, “I would hate to see him lose another friend.” I didn’t know, didn’t want to know, what he meant when he said that. Tamlin had never spoken about Rhysand as I grew up- always wanted to act like he didn’t exist, like no one else existed outside the Spring Court. That court was the beginning and end of everything, my entire world. I held back a shiver.

“What reason would I even have for leaving? Rhysand may have few friends, but I have even less than him- something I’m sure you know already.” Azriel looked towards me, almost sheepish for a moment, but returned his focus to the road ahead.

“Rhysand may have told me as much, yes… but you love the people you left behind in the Spring Court, don’t you? You could return to them, sell the information you’ve gathered about Velaris, and never look back.” Something in my blood turned cold at his tone- not accusing, not quite. But completely suspicious. I stopped in the middle of the road, the crowded streets parting around me as people continued to walk about. Noticing this, Azriel turned around from where he was, a few paces ahead.

“Suggest I do something so low, so wretched, again, and I’ll claw out your eyes.” I don’t know where my anger came from- his doubts weren’t entirely unfounded, but out of _nowhere_ like that... I thought towards our conversation that took place in the early hours this morning, and suddenly felt nauseous. Of course, I was nothing but a caged animal when he saw me like that, and decided to prod and poke to learn something. And it had worked. Azriel stopped completely then, frozen to the ground. His eyes turned unreadable, looking completely unreachable.

Then, slowly, “Making threats to Rhysand’s closest companions, are you?” It was quiet, still defensive. Still calculating. I had caught the shadow-singer off-guard. In response, I shook my head, a nasty, wicked, maddened grin taking over my face as the wolf inside of me preened.

“No. Making _promises_ to Rhysand’s companions.” He swallowed, eyes searching over mine, and my eyes watched the bob of his Adam’s apple in interest. No- not my eyes. Wolf eyes. Azriel noticed the change, and shifted his weight from one foot to another, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of it. What to make of me- the side he hadn't seen yet. But I leashed that wolf, brought her in. _Down, girl._ She growled, but obeyed. Azriel opened his mouth again, but I started walking again, shoulder brushing his arm as I passed.

“Don’t worry, I know the way back.” With another look over my shoulder, I left, walking briskly back to the House of Wind.

I didn’t need an escort, or a shadow, or a friend to watch the sunrise with. I sniffed. I could handle myself just fine.

I felt a wolf howl echo inside my head, and quickened my pace.


	4. /four/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I think you two could… understand each other.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I'm sorry for the distance between updates so far, but I'm afraid they might be a bit sporadic. I have midterms for the next few weeks, but I'll be trying my best to update this work as often as possible! As always, any and all feedback is appreciated. I won't keep you any longer- I bring you chapter four!

_-Azriel-_

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt myself freeze up when I took in those dark, wild green eyes as Abilene glared at me. I hadn’t meant to antagonize her- not really, at least. I could admit, though Rhysand tirelessly scolded me for my caution and suspicion of her, I had wanted to learn about her- about her intentions, her mind, how she ticked. One thing I learned for certain- she didn’t like it when I, or anyone, prodded. And she could tell the difference between curiosity and suspicion _veiled_ with curiosity.

So, I had taken an unveiled approach. Now, I wondered whether or not she was going to growl at me, show me some claws, or skip the theatrics and simply shift and claw my eyes out, like she promised. I couldn’t say I wouldn’t have deserved it. It only shocked me because of the speed, the readiness with which she yanked up her defenses, let that feral energy show as if--

As if it was not the first time she had to do so. As if it were normal, to jump to defense at the first sign of adversity. I felt a hollow pang in my gut, but didn’t let the feeling affect me as I slowly made my way back to the House of Wind. She didn’t need an escort, she claimed, so I waited for a good while before trailing her back, emerald green flashing in my eyelids everytime I blinked.

By the time I flew up the steps to the entrance, Rhysand was already waiting within, a contemplative look on his face as he looked towards the staircase. When his attention shifted to me, his expression shifted, too, taking on a more exasperated look.

“Would you like to tell me why she came in here looking like a dog pissed on her shoes?” I didn’t have to ask- Abilene had left in a… delicate state. And a childish one, in my opinion. But instead of taking on the defensive side, I gently brushed past him, holding back a scoff.

“The only dog I saw was her- that is her favored form, correct?” I paused, taking in the silence as Rhysand made no attempt to respond. “Does she so often become belligerent with people she doesn’t know?” I did a shit job of veiling the acidity in my tone. I can’t say I properly tried to in the first place.

I heard him take a few steps forward, closer to me. Without knowing, I had made my way over to the window: east-facing. The one I watched Abilene stand for hours at, gazing out at the horizon, just that morning. I could still feel the wonderment, the awe, the staggering relief in the spot where she stood.

“She does, believe it or not. Mostly when she’s feeling threatened. Or frightened.” He took a breath, before letting out an airy laugh as he asked, “Did she threaten to bite your throat out?” Asking was a courtesy. He could easily reach into my mind, pluck out every little detail of our encounter. But Rhysand was polite.

I couldn’t hold back my reaction, huffing out a laugh, even as my eyes remained trained on that same horizon. “No. Just to claw my eyes out.” Rhys let out a chuckle, but there was a weight behind it. I filled the silence for him, a genuine sense of regret taking over as I felt the exhaustion roll off him in waves. “I’m sorry. It can’t be easy. None of this can be easy, I mean. For either of you.”

Rhysand let a longer pause flow between us. A familiar silence- but one that dragged on for so long I wasn’t sure if he was even there anymore. When I turned to look, however, I found him, my dear, dear friend, with a grave look masking his face. Tired. A quiet, bright sadness.

“What did you say to her, Az?” It wasn’t an accusation- it was worrying. Worrying that something I had said, something so small, may have caused the only companion and friend he had for 50 years spiral down into a hole. That hollow pang returned. This time, I let it ring.

“I… wanted to know what her plans were- whether she was going to stay, or--”

“She has to stay.” I blinked at the resolute tone, the slight desperation I found, in his immediate response.

“ _Has_ to?” I was quiet with my questioning. Asking was a courtesy for me, too.

“I mentioned Tamlin was at one point part of the equation, correct? I simply never detailed the extent to which he went to protect her. To keep her hidden.” I raised my eyes in question, but he let another pause spread between us, thickening the air with the tension. He sighed, head coming to hang down.

“He glamored her out of everyone’s sight- save for himself and his closest companions. He erased her, Azriel. He let the members of his court have a _funeral_ for her.” He practically choked on that last sentence, and when his eyes came to meet mine, the purple irises blazed with a cold rage I could feel, almost touch.

Erased. Abilene, the Lady of the Spring Court, sister to Tamlin, the High Lord, was said to have died long ago, along with the rest of her family. All so that sniveling little High Lord of the Spring Court could have peace of mind. Something ugly coiled in my stomach. He had locked her away- that wild, untamed, youthful being. I had known from the moment my eyes had taken her in that she was young- even assumed she was uncontested until Rhysand brought up how exactly they knew each other. Erased, then the moment her existence came to light, she was imprisoned Under the Mountain. Another cage with a different name. Rhysand still hadn’t told me, told any of us, what exactly the two of them went through there, but… we each had our suspicions. I knew that my eyes now matched Rhysand’s as I felt that ugly feeling well up and inch out of me like an ink splotch on paper.

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts from my mind, trying to claw and grasp at the rational, calm part of me as I quietly said, “She doesn’t know how to act- not truly. To be stuck for that long in her animal form…” Rhysand’s expression explained enough, energy draining from him like a switch flipped, but he still responded.

“You’re right. She doesn’t.” He looked down for a moment before meeting my eyes again, but when he did they were solid once more. Resolute. Unflinching. The eyes of the High Lord- the eyes of my friend. “Shifting back into her form took hours. Afterwards, she wasn’t verbal until we got to Velaris. I presume it will take her some time before she’s able to act like… act like she used to. So no, she doesn’t, and she needs our help. Our patience. She deserves that much.”

“I’m sure if she heard those words, she would be less than content to be coddled-”

“I’m not talking about coddling. I’m talking about looking out for her. For letting her know when she’s wrong, but not… not shutting her out. Or shutting her in.” He gave me a pointed look. Oh. _Oh._

Oh Hell no.

“You… want me to babysit the Lady of the Spring Court?” I took a wavering glance at the steps- I had been monitoring them the whole time for the sight of her, but now I was worried that even uttering her title or name would automatically result in some kind of hellfire- likely in the shape of fangs- from the High Fae female. “The same Lady of the Spring Court who threatened to claw out my eyeballs?” Rhysand risked a laugh, and I knew I was already stuck.

“I think you two could… understand each other.” He was smiling, but the light in his eyes faded a little as he said those words. I knew what he meant by those words- at least, I think I did. A twitch of my head was taken as a nod.

“Just don’t… don’t-- don’t corner her,” He paused, a grim smile taking over his features, “that’s when the claws really come out.”

I didn’t want to think of what that meant.

_-Abilene, the next day (post Ch. 3 dream sequence)-_

I held a hand to my head as it throbbed, screams of the Peregryn still resonating through my skull like some sick symphony. I hadn’t taken any food or drink last night after I returned to the House of Wind. I hadn’t even shown my face, something dark and angry still boiling under my skin from the words exchanged between I and the Shadowsinger.

_Stupid, know-it-all Ilyrian male._ I wanted to scoff- he had acted like he could see right through me- could truly see me. 

He didn’t know anything. Not a damned thing. 

And yet, when I finally dragged myself down the steps (far past sunrise, this time), I found none other than Azriel standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting. Again. I tried to hold back a growl at the same scorching, relentless eyes that found mine as I made my way down. I hated those eyes, I found- I felt bare under them.

Claws pushed at my finger tips. At the thought of Rhysand- kind, patient Rhysand- I pushed them down, far beneath the surface. Tension must have been evident on my face, because I watched as Azriel seemed to attempt to reign himself in- from what, I was unsure. I arrived at the bottom, eyes leveling to his, despite the significant difference in height. I would not be small in front of him- in front of anyone. A moment of tense, thick pause, and then I asked the only question I could think of to make this instance less awkward than it already was.

“Is Rhysand around?” _Please say yes please say yes please say--_

The look on Azriel’s face told me nothing, and I had the foolish notion to hold out faith, then, “No. Late last night he left for the Court of Night. He… has to make an appearance, at times.” I felt my face drop. _Not Rhysand, then. Maybe-_

“I wanted to show you something.” The confusion must have shown, or perhaps the disinterest, as I found with a wicked bit of amusement that the Shadowsinger’s face began to turn red. “There’s a library here. In the House of Wind. Would you,” he was visibly holding back a grimace, “would you like me to show you?”

“Alright, then.” I shrugged, and I could have sworn he looked relieved- as if he was expecting an immediate rejection. There was no doubt that his offer was Rhysand’s doing, well-disguised and hidden in a pretty package. So very much like the High Lord of the Night Court.

Well, fair enough. I wasn’t cruel, though my more animalistic instincts enjoyed seeing him squirm a bit. If the Shadowsinger could play nice, I would make an attempt as well.

And so we made our way to wherever the library was- I followed silently behind Azriel by a few paces, twiddling my thumbs. He didn’t attempt to make any more conversation. Neither did I. 

After a few minutes of winding turns _(seriously, how large was this place?)_ we stood before two tall, wide wooden doors, elegantly carved and shining. I let Azriel slowly open the heavy door, and brushed past his side as he held it open for me.

The inside of the library was beautiful. And so much like the Spring Court’s. I felt my knees wobble at the thought of home-- no, not home. Not anymore. From floor to ceiling, books took up space, packed together in a lovely, colorful array, ranging from ancient, leathery volumes tearing apart at the spines to new, shiny ones no doubt filled with pages from hopeful aspiring scribes and authors. It had been a long time since I had been allowed to read, and I vaguely felt myself worrying whether I would remember how to. And yet, at the sight of it all... I felt something I thought to be dead inside me wake up, an animal waking from hibernation.

I didn’t hesitate, however, to stroll right over to a shelf, selecting the first book that caught my interest, before plopping myself down into an overstuffed, velvety armchair by the window, the morning light slowly pouring through like honey. I almost forgot Azriel was even there as I slowly opened to the first page. Ah, yes. This was another simple pleasure I had forgotten so easily in my time Under the Mountain- the smell of the aged pages, the feeling of the leather spine of the bindings under my fingertips. I could feel my blood sing at the feeling.

When was the last time I even read? It was no doubt in a cramped corner of the Spring Court’s library in the dead of night, nothing but a single candle and Lucien’s ever-present smile to keep me company. He’d sometimes recite poems for me when I grew too tired to turn the pages myself, but too eager to read to go to bed. I could have spent hours listening to his voice- and once left him blushing fiercely when I told him so.

I was taken from my memories when a floorboard creaked, barely there, but my animalistic instincts easily picked up the sound. Ah, yes. I was being shadowed by an oversized bat with awful social skills. But I looked him over from where he stood in the corner. Calculating again- but almost… sheepish. He couldn’t meet my gaze- was the Shadowsinger _nervous?_ A part of me almost felt bad for him. I returned my gaze to the letters on the page in front of me.

“If this is you trying to win my trust, Shadowsinger, then… well, then I suppose it’s working.” I was quiet, but I knew he heard the confession. He paused, for a moment, before giving what looked like a half-smile, and slowly slinked his way over.

He stopped at the armchair beside mine, but made no move to sit yet. “I do suppose an apology is in order, as well.” He looked away from me, but said, “I didn’t mean to agitate or push you yesterday, in the street. It isn’t my intention to make an enemy of you, or make your transition here any more difficult. I apologize if I did so. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I did want you to know I’m sorry.” I had to admit to a bit of shock- both Azriel and I seemed to be stubborn, but here he was… yielding. Still putting the choice in my hands- to accept his apology, or not to. As he stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes now meeting mine with sincerity shining in them, the answer seemed rather simple. But embarrassing to admit to.

“I accept your apology. And… I’d like to make one of my own,” if he was a dog, his ears would have perked up. I pushed away the imagery, finding it difficult to meet those piercing eyes as I continued, “I shouldn’t have said what I said either. It was… uncivilized.” That seemed the best word for it. Azriel almost looked like he wanted to laugh. I fought the blush that I felt bubbling up, scorching my pale cheeks.

“I would make the request that you don’t make threats against my eyeballs anymore- or any part of me, actually.” That was the first time I saw him crack a genuine smile- a crooked, goofy one, and it filled me with something I couldn’t recognize- something I hadn’t felt for a long time. It made me burst into laughter- loud, joyous laughter that came from somewhere deep in my chest. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to return it with chuckles of his own.

“That, I can’t always promise.” I paused as our laughter died down. “What made you bring me here, of all places?” Not even Rhysand knew my interest in books- my love for the sanctuary that was a library. To be surrounded in books- different worlds, places to escape to… it was bliss. And he had brought me here.

“I… I like it here. It’s quiet, but bright.” His eyes went far away for a moment, but flashed to mine again, as if trying to shake of the effect of an old, lost memory. I knew the feeling. He smiled again, and I made the conscious effort to return it. I didn’t tell him about the library in the Spring Court, or the long nights I spent there, desperately trying to find the perfect world, a place in my mind where I could drift away- a place where I could disappear on my own account. I didn’t tell him about Lucien’s reading voice, or the way I missed the way he said those words so very much. I didn’t bring an ounce of the Spring Court in here. This was a safe space. This was my space. I couldn’t ruin that- for me or him.

We were both smiling that morning. And it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Did you like it? I, personally, am glad that Azriel and Abilene are trying to play nice, but do you think it will last? I'm also very excited to explore her dynamic with the other characters as well. I think the timeline might speed up a bit now that Abilene is fully settling into Velaris, and we can get to the really good parts soon enough! Thank you for reading, and don't forget to drop some kudos and comments if you'd like!


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